


Think on me

by huntingosprey



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 15:17:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1352149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huntingosprey/pseuds/huntingosprey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr John Watson thinks on his friend, Mary and the three hard years since Switzerland to the words of the song Think On Me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Think on me

It was foolish, I could hear Holmes tart comment on the subject in my head which did nothing to quell the tears that sprung to my eyes, it was a very foolish thing to get so worked up over. The first time I could have blamed it on the skirl of the pipes causing a momentary touch of nostalgia for Edinburgh or the army and had any man asked me at that time I would have passed it off as such. In truth it was the words so simple, so plain, and so ordinary that had struck me through like a knife. 

_When I no more behold thee, think on me._   
_By all thine eyes have told me, think on me._   
_When hearts are lightest, when eyes are brightest, when grief’s are slightest,_   
_Think on me._

There was scarcely a day passing when I didn’t think on him, my truest friend and most loyal companion, not a Sunday passed with out my standing the evening watch over his grave my mind replaying those last horrible and precious seconds on The Balcony as I saw him clearly. I saw his courage, his determination, the will of steel, his unshakable conviction that I could carry through on what needed doing and in the end the heart of him as he looked into my eyes and offered me the forgiveness and peace I still cannot grasp.

When it was all over on my return to London and the last court case was over I had stood at the foot of that empty grave and told him the results in all the detail I could, just as if reporting to him on some event in a case. Each time Mary had quickened I had stood there again and told him that I would make sure our child would know of his heroic and clever Uncle Sherlock. 

On those nights where I had glad news for him, from my own life to the great triumphs of the law I found myself, more by instinct than design coming to attention before his tombstone and doing an about face to leave, as if I had been dismissed by a superior officer after a task well completed.

__ In all thine hours of gladness, think on me.  
_If e’er I soothed thy sadness, think on me._  
 _When foes are by thee, when woes are nigh thee, when friends all fly thee.  
_ _Think on me._

On other nights, oh on other nights I could not stand. When one of the more promising inspectors died under my hands because I hadn’t been fast enough on my feet to save him, when I was asked to offer an opinion on some horrible case but could find nothing new to help the Yard and when Mary died trying to bring our son into the world, then I knelt before that stone.  I confess I wept and in my mind called up all the sharp and cutting remarks I had heard him use but always those calm, trusting and peace filled eyes I had seen floated into view ending the tirade and I more than once fancied I felt his long fingered had rest on my shoulder and his voice whisper some comforting word in my ear.

 It has been a year since Mary died and three years now since Holmes died, three long years of struggle and grief and the stress shows in my face and manners, in this last month however I fear it has also begun to show in my mind as well. I had arrived early at the cemetery one Sunday, to tend Mary’s grave as well as to stand my customary watch over Holmes’ when I saw another man staring down at that black stone. I took him at first for some scruffy apprentice, certainly he was younger than I and his ginger hair stuck out at all angles but there was a solemnity about him that didn’t sit well, I had approached him to ask why he was there when he looked round suddenly and I staggered back in shock. I could have sworn it was Holmes looking back at me from that young face, what the boy saw in my face I dread to think for he took off like the hounds of hell were behind him leaving me staring white and wide eyed. His was not the only face that dissolved into Holmes’ there was the flower seller in Covent Garden, the post man going down Thayer Street and at least three other faces.

I have never feared death, both as a doctor and a soldier I know it is inescapable, but to loose my mind, to be unable to remember or distinguish present and past. Such a fate is abhorrent to me, I have taken steps to end things if this condition gets worse and so it is that in the course of setting my things in order that I have found this poem again and realised how apt to my current case it is for now I truly have no one to cheer me and all my thoughts swirl in a confused jumble around my friend

  
_When thou hast none to cheer thee, think on me._   
_When no fond heart is near thee, think on me._   
_When lonely sighing o’er pleasure flying,_   
_When hope is dying,_   
_Think on me._

I shall give myself another month and then if my mind still see Holmes face in random strangers I shall act, in the meantime I have my practice to attend to and just perhaps I may be able to distract myself with the latest facts concerning the late Honourable Ronald Adair murdered by as yet unknown persons.

**Author's Note:**

> A fill from the Sherlock Holmes Kink Meme over on LJ. To hear the song in its sad and beautiful awesomness: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4YE-YdoHfzs&feature=youtu.be
> 
> And yes there may well be a part 2 from Holmes POV


End file.
